


Customize

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Hank gets extras for Connor.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Customize

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Hank doesn’t need _complementary accessories._ He doesn’t need any upgrades, any extra programs, any alterations—he just needs _Connor_ , up and running, fully functional. Connor blinks, his beautiful brown eyes full of recognition, and Hank lets out a palpable sigh of relief even though the clerk’s right there to see it. The corner of Connor’s pink lips twitch up in a smile, like he recognizes Hank’s emotion and appreciates it. Hank doesn’t smile back. He’s still pissed Connor hurt himself in the first place—the perp wasn’t worth it. But the little CyberLife outlet in the mall took Connor in and patched him right up over the weekend, and the android clerk tells Hank that Connor’s ready to go. He’s released into Hank’s custody, allowed to follow Hank out to the car. 

Connor takes the bag of complementary accessories that Hank didn’t ask for. It isn’t until they’re sitting across from each other in the sanctity of Hank’s vehicle that Hank thinks to ask, “What the fuck kind of accessory do you give a _person_ , anyway?”

Connor smiles again, even though Hank didn’t mean it _like that._ He knows Connor’s not technically a _person_. But he does look human enough; he’s hardly a Barbie doll. There’s no need to give him an extra hairbrush or whatever’s in the bag. 

Connor passes the bag over as though to answer, and Hank takes into his lap, surprised at the weight. He fishes through the blue and white tissue paper without letting the car start—he never likes to be distracted while it’s driving, even if it’s driving itself. 

He pulls out the first item—a few black pseudo-leather straps connected with metal rings. Hank stretches it out and mutters, “The hell is this...?”

“A harness,” Connor reports, delicately collecting it from Hank’s hands. “Would you like me to wear it, Lieutenant?”

Hank blinks at him, blushes deep, and splutters, “Of course not!” He doesn’t even put Sumo in harnesses. The fact that they’d give him one for a _detective_ android is absurd.

But he pulls out the next piece of fabric and doesn’t even have to ask what it is, because he knows a pair of panties when he sees them. It’s a frilly, black number that, again, has no business being on a detective. Connor fills in, “More enticing clothing than the ones I came in. Would you like me to—”

“No!” Hank says it so loudly his ears almost ring. His blush is definitely creeping higher. He shoves the panties back into the bag before Connor can take them, or worse, Hank can start to picture them on him. But somehow, it gets even worse.

Hank pulls out what looks like a hyper-realistic dildo and loses all the colour in his face. 

“Detachable parts,” Connor explains. While Hank just _gapes_ , Connor curiously asks, “Are there other options inside?”

“ _Options?_ ” Hank hoarsely repeats. His head creaks towards Connor, and before he can stop himself, he’s asked, “What parts do you have now?”

“Nothing,” Connor answers so easily, like it’s perfectly normal. Like he’s a giant Ken doll and Hank should’ve known that from the start. Hank doesn’t believe it. He’s never felt Connor below the belt. Of course he’s _thought about it_ , but a stray kiss to Connor’s handsome face is as far as he’s gotten. He didn’t think Connor had sexual programming, but he thought Connor had _something._

Connor notes, voice drenched in curiosity again, “I’d be happy to attach whatever parts you prefer.”

Hank throws the entire package over his shoulder as though he’s been burned. Connor’s gaze follows the movement, staring into the backseat. Now if Connor does attach that dick, he’ll have to wash it off first. 

Slowly turning back to Hank, Connor deduces, “I take it you don’t want me to have a penis, then.”

Hank almost grunts out, _I’m dating a Ken doll._ He feels like that’s a decent reason to be dazed. Finally, Connor settles back in the passenger seat. He correctly surmises: “I’ll give you some time to process.”

Hank grunts, “Thanks,” and starts driving.


End file.
